


Just a Cold

by Kiwikiwi591



Series: Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Short, john puts up with it, sherlock is a huge whiner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwikiwi591/pseuds/Kiwikiwi591
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wakes up with a cold and he is absolutely miserable. Luckily, John is there to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Cold

Sherlock slowly opened his eyes as he awoke, groaning at the much-too-bright light through the window. Or at least tried, anyway. His throat was too sore to really get any proper noise out. He shifted in his bed, burying himself in the sheets. He tried to take a deep breath, and instead ended up coughing until his lungs hurt. He sat up, still grimacing.

He stood, wrapping his sheet around and walking out to the living room, where John sat in his chair with a mug of tea and a newspaper. Sherlock squinted at him, trying to figure out what time it was. It had to be at least 10:30; the exact time that John always got up when he wasn’t working. That was odd; usually Sherlock was up and about hours before John even began to wake up.

“’Bout time you woke up,” John said, turning to look at him with a warm smile. After seeing that something was amiss, however, he frowned in concern. “You okay?”

“No,” Sherlock said, noticing with _much_ irritation that his voice was practically non-existent.

John stood, walked over to him. “What’s the matter, love?” he said.

“ _Everything,”_ Sherlock said before launching into another coughing fit. John, now looking very worried, shifted him over to the couch and sat him down. “ _This is_ _absolutely hideous._ ” Sherlock grumbled.

John reached down, gently placed a hand on Sherlock’s forehead. “You’re running a fever. What else is wrong?” he asked.

“As I said before, everything. I can’t think of any part of my body that isn’t in rebellion against me right now,” he replied, finishing with a pout and a sniffle. John smiled slightly at the childish display, but his doctor’s instincts pressed him forward.

“Any specific symptoms in there that jump out?” He asked.

Sherlock sniffed impatiently. “The worst would be my throat, chest, and nose. It’s awful.”

John nodded. “Don’t move,” he said. He turned to leave the room, returned a couple moments later with a glass of water and two tablets. He set them on the coffee table, seeing as Sherlock was now laying on the couch completely buried into his sheet. The only indicator that anyone was inside was just a bit of curly, dark hair sticking out of the top.

John chuckled, then stepped forward a bit. “Sherlock,” he said.

No reply.

“Sherlock.”

Still no reply.

John sighed, then walked towards the end of the sheet. He quickly pulled it back, revealing a _very_ annoyed Sherlock.

“ _Go away,”_ he said, sounding oddly akin to an angry cat.

John sighed again.

“You need to take this medicine.”

“No.”

“It’ll make you feel better.”

“No it won’t.”

“I’m a doctor.”

“It’s my choice.”

“You’re being _ridiculous.”_ John was getting thoroughly annoyed now. Sherlock was acting like a five year old, and he knew it.

Sherlock shrugged, then pulled the sheet back over his head.

Fine. If Sherlock was going to act like a child, he was going to be treated like one.

“I’ll take your cigarettes,” John said.

“You’ll never find them all,” Sherlock said, his voice muffled by the sheet.

“I’ll take your violin.”

“I can find another until you return mine.”

“I’ll take away your experiments.”

“I’m not going to be moving for a couple days anyway.”

“I’ll throw away all the body parts in the fridge.”

“Molly.”

_Damn it!_

John sighed in frustration. Then, he smiled.

“I’ll leave.”

Sherlock said nothing.

“Unless you take that medicine within the next three seconds, I’ll leave. I’ll go stay with someone.”

Sherlock still said nothing, but peeked out of the sheet. John struggled to keep a straight face.

“One.”

Sherlock didn’t move.

“Two.”

Sherlock still didn’t move, just stared at John.

John sighed, walked over to the coat rack. Sherlock sat straight up, yelled “Wait!”, then grabbed his throat and coughed.

John paused, looked at him.

“…Fine.” Sherlock said, giving his best pout.

John just laughed, then handed the glass and tablets to him. Sherlock took the medicine with no further fuss.

Sherlock continued to pout, and then sighed, staring at John.

John took the hint, walked over to the couch, and sat on the end cushion. Sherlock laid down, putting his head in his lap.

“You can be a serious pain in the arse sometimes,” John said, running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock said nothing at first, just enjoying his touch. He always knew the best ways to comfort him.

“And yet you stay,” Sherlock said.

“As long as you cooperate,” John replied.

“You wouldn’t have really left, anyway,” Sherlock said, smiling a bit.

John sighed. “No, I wouldn’t have. My next course of action would have been to just force you to take it, which I wanted to avoid. I figured even if you were sick, you would still find the energy to give me a black eye.”

“And you would have given me one to match,” Sherlock replied.

John chuckled, still twiddling with the dark curls. Sherlock yawned.

“You can sleep if you want,” John said softly. Sherlock needed no further encouragement, and quickly fell asleep. John continued to play with his hair for a while, but bent down to give a quick kiss on the forehead before slipping off to sleep himself.

Sherlock smiled in his sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Just some quick Johnlock drabble as a prompt fill for somebody. They requested some fluff/cute Johnlock. I gave it my best attempt.
> 
> On a side note, I really need to work on my titling skills :v


End file.
